Illusions
by Kyriebess
Summary: Sam gets attacked by a rare creature who is trying to scare him to death. Fortunately, there's a small but slightly awkward loophole in the creature's spell that may help the brothers defeat her. Originally published in the Brotherhood4 fanzine.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters belong to the CW- I'm just borrowing. The plot and anyone else is mine.**_

___This story originally appeared in the Brotherhood4 fanzine, which I was very, very honored to be included in. It was chalk full of phenomenal writers and their fabulous stories._

___Large amounts of thanks go out to KHannaKorossy for the ridiculous amount of time she spent helping me make this a better story. She deserves a giant amount of credit for her amazing ability to eliminate my redundancy and excess verbiage.  
_

_This story takes place during season 3, four months prior to Dean's contract running out. __ As it was also written at that time, some of the details are now slightly AU. It shouldn't be enough to majorly effect the story though...I hope. It will be posted in three parts._

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Sam stopped mid-stride, his eyes focused on the copper-hooved leg of the woman in front of him. He knew what she was and, honestly, probably should've expected her.

They had come to this town to investigate the circumstances surrounding five young men who had been "scared to death." So really, the fact they had all been men, and that they'd all died of fright should've put an empusa high on the list of suspects, and yet they hadn't even considered one as a possibility. After all, what were the chances an empusa would be in Greenville, North Carolina? None had ever been seen on this side of the Atlantic. Still, as Sam stared at the telltale copper leg, there was no doubt that was what she was.

Slowly, Sam lifted his eyes and took in the rest of the entity's appearance. Floating about a foot off the ground, the silver-haired lady reached out bony fingers, the skin on her body pulling too tightly over her bones. She was emaciated, dressed in a flowing white gown, her one shiny, hooved leg hovering next to its furry partner. The copper of her leg seemed to reflect as much light as her glowing red eyes.

Unimpressed, Sam let out an irritated breath. He wasn't prepared to deal with an empusa. Hell, he and Dean had barely even started the research on this case. In fact, they were still in research phase one: Sam checking the internet and Dean talking to the local girls. Sam had just finished hiding his laptop under the Impala's front seat when he had run into this bitch. Dean was still in the bar.

The empusa hissed and moved forward, and Sam crossed his arms and held his ground. Empusas were powerful beings, but their self-esteem sucked. They immediately fled when confronted by someone who insulted or didn't fear them. Sam sneered. "Man, you're ugly…"

Okay, it wasn't the most creative insult. Dean probably could've done better, but it was still offensive. However, based on the empusa's forward movement, she wasn't all that hurt.

Resisting the urge to back away from the eerie figure, Sam cleared his throat and tried again. "What's the matter? Couldn't find any men while you were alive? Uh…you skank!"

For a moment, the empusa stopped, appearing somewhat confused. Sam just rolled his eyes at himself. Skank? Seriously? Dean would be kicking his ass right now if he'd heard that. Sam sucked at insulting people. The longhaired creature didn't even seem to know what a skank was. Sam shook his head; _he_ wasn't even positive about what a skank was…

With a sigh, Sam conjured up his most intimidating face. "I'm not afraid of you. You're ugly, pathetic, and you smell."

Now clearly incensed, the empusa flew forward, coming to a sudden halt only inches from Sam's face. It took all his willpower not to back away or shut his eyes. He couldn't show any fear. Holding his breath to avoid the smell, Sam stared down his adversary.

With an unexpected lunge, she bit him on the forehead.

For a moment, he was startled. That wasn't supposed to happen. He hadn't backed down, she should have fled…

Then, the world began to dissolve around him.

A dark gray-and-black mist seemed to shroud everything. Nothing was clear anymore. The dirt road, the bar, the cars, the trees, all of them were just indistinct gray shapes. The only thing that remained clear was the empusa's glowing red eyes; still they hovered, unnervingly close to Sam's face.

Realizing he was losing control of the situation, Sam took a stand one last time. "I'm not afraid of you! How could anyone be afraid of something so disgusting? You have to be the ugliest woman I've ever seen!"

With a loud wail, the red eyes moved forward, and Sam felt a sharp pain as the empusa bit his left shoulder.

Grunting, Sam stumbled backward and his vision went completely dark. He was totally blind now, everything had turned to black; even the red eyes had disappeared. The pain in his shoulder ceased abruptly, and Sam found himself breathing heavily and leaning against what he presumed to be the Impala.

As he regained his breath, Sam realized his sight was not the only sense he had lost. There was no sound. No sounds of cars or wind or people. Even the sounds of his panting no longer existed. Unable to tell if he was still under attack, Sam rubbed his eyes and strained to see something.

Surprisingly, he did. Far off in the distance was a glowing white light. It was the only thing he could see and, based on his memory, the light was coming from the bar. Perhaps the artificial lights in the bar were immune to the empusa's ancient spell?

A low grumbling sound interrupted Sam's pondering. Hot breath blew against his right ear, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something or someone was right behind him, breathing on him.

Slowly, Sam turned and found himself face-to-face with a grizzly-sized, two-horned dog. From his point of view, the beast appeared to be hovering in mid-air, but even though he couldn't see it, Sam knew the dog was actually crouched on the hood of the Impala. So apparently he wasn't completely blind, only partially: he could see a light and a gigantic slobbering, growling canine.

The dog moved into a pounce position, and Sam began to slowly back away. The teeth were bared and the claws began to curl under.

Suddenly, the dog sprang forward.

Sam turned and ran.

Gasping from fear and exertion, he ran full speed through the darkness, toward the light. Behind him, he could hear the dog's pounding steps and barks. The animal was right on his heels.

The darkness was suffocating. There didn't even seem to be a ground below him, just black. Still, beneath his feet, Sam could feel the rocks, gravel, and dirt. The wind was there as well; he could feel it blowing against his face as he ran, but he couldn't hear it.

Suddenly, the ground seemed to drop from under him, and a hard, stiff object hit him in the shins. With a silent yell, Sam found himself falling. He hit what he presumed to be the ground hands first, scraping his palms and knees in the gravel. His feet remained tangled in whatever obstacle had tripped him.

The dog's exhales disturbed the hairs on the back of his head, and his neck was soon wet with canine drool. Fighting off the painful feeling in his chest as his heart pounded, Sam managed to pick himself up and resume running before the dog bit. If only he had his gun, a knife, _something_ he could use to fight the beast.

It occurred to him as he ran that the dog was most likely an illusion brought on by the empusa. After all, that was what they did: create illusions to frighten young men to death. However, given the fact that his last attempt at telling the empusa off had failed miserably, Sam wasn't about to stand his ground against Fido. He had to get to the light. He didn't know what it was or why he thought it would help, but everything in his being was telling him to run to it.

Another hard object met Sam's feet, and he found himself falling once again, this time onto what felt like wooden stairs. Scrambling quickly, he felt his way up the stairs and hit something soft and warm. Whatever it was, shoved him out of the way. There was the feeling of a hand on his back, and Sam felt himself pushed in another direction.

The air unexpectedly became warmer, and Sam threw his hands out in front of him to help avoid running into more objects. There were a lot of them now; almost every step he took, he found himself bumping into something. The beast was still stalking him, its growl and hot breath following his every move. But the light was close now, and Sam felt his hope grow. If he could reach the light before the dog killed him, he'd be okay.

Suddenly, another face appeared before him. A second dog, this one almost twice as large as the first. There was no fur on this one, only a shiny black, reptile-like skin. The slobber dripping from its fangs seem to glisten in the glow of the light.

Sam was panting hard as he watched the dog stealthily move between him and the light. The other dog remained in its seemingly permanent place at Sam's back. The dog in front crouched down, and Sam tried his best to slow his heart in preparation for another run. The canine seemed to grin. It was time.

Before the dog moved, Sam darted to the side. Immediately, he felt himself hit something, and what felt like several hands caught him from falling to the ground. The front dog snapped its jaws at his arm, but somehow Sam managed to pull the limb away before it was torn off. Just as one of the dogs brought up its claws to rip open his back, Sam took a desperate leap toward the light.

"Sam? What the hell is wrong with you? Are you drunk?"

Coughing and breathing harshly, Sam blinked. He was in the bar and, what was more, he could see. The darkness was gone and the loud talking, clanking of glasses, and bad country music meant his hearing was back, too. Sam sagged further onto his brother's knee as the relief swelled through him. Somehow in that attack, he had literally fallen into Dean's lap.

"Um, that's a little weird…" A girl's voice rang out from above him, and Dean's hands were quickly pulling him up.

"Dude, get your freakin' face out of my crotch."

Before Sam had a chance to process, Dean pushed him away, and he was plunged back into darkness. The dog's snarling face was inches from his own.

Sam screamed and reached out a hand.

The dog vanished and the bar reappeared, along with his brother's now confused face.

Still catching his breath and ignoring the shaking in his hands, Sam tried to preempt his brother before he was thrown off again. "Wait, wait…don't push me off."

He needn't have worried. Dean was looking more concerned by the moment and given the way Sam had screamed the last time he was thrown off, he doubted Dean would be shaking him off again any time soon.

Sam tried again to explain through gasping breaths. "It's an empusa. I saw it. It bit me."

Immediately, Dean's worry expressed itself through anger. "What? When the hell'd that happen? Why the hell'd you let her bite you?"

Sam rolled his eyes, the beating of his heart finally returning to a reasonable rate. "I didn't _let_ her, Dean. I insulted her, told her off…none of it worked."

Dean smirked. "'Cause you're too goddamn nice—you suck at rank-outs."

Sam grumbled, accepting his brother's abuse. What was he going to say? Dean had always been better with the insults than he was.

The girl on the barstool across from Dean spoke up. "Um, so, do you know him?"

Dean turned to her and pointed at Sam. "My brother."

The girl looked up at Sam, appearing somewhat disturbed by that piece of information. She turned back to Dean. "He's your brother…not, like, your…" She waved her hand at them.

Dean glared back. "No. He's my _brother_." Then he turned to Sam. "Why is it that everyone thinks we're gay?"

The girl's expression grew aloof. "Well, he fell into your lap, and now he's massaging your shoulder…"

This time, Sam felt himself growing annoyed. "I'm not _massaging_ his shoulder."

Dean turned to him. "Dude, why _are_ you holding on to me? And what was with the screaming?"

Sam lowered his head, embarrassed. He so didn't want to go there. He would never hear the end of it. Despite the fact the bitch hadn't fled when Sam attempted to tell her off, the evidence still pointed to his attacker being an empusa. Empusas used fear to kill their prey. However, the spell would lose its effectiveness if the prey was in an area or _around a person_ that made them feel safe.

It was humiliating. He was twenty-four years old, perfectly capable of being independent—hell, he'd lived on his own in college fairly successfully, the weekend after Halloween not withstanding—but years of running to Dean for help had left its mark. Dean had never let him down; he had even managed to bring Sam back from the dead. Of course his faith in his big brother would override any spell. Still, Dean would just live this up…

Unwilling to verbally admit his current dependence, Sam tried to help his brother reach the answer on his own. "It's an empusa."

Dean raised his brows, obviously missing the implication. "Yeah…so? What the hell's that got to do with you molesting me?"

Sam avoided his brother's eyes and chewed on his own lip as he tried to think of another way to explain the situation.

Never a patient man, Dean moved his arm in an attempt to shake his brother off.

Startled, and frightened at the prospect of falling into darkness once again, Sam tightened his hold and yelled, "No!"

Dean ceased his movements, concern shining in his eyes once again. "Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?"

The girl spoke. "I think he's drunk."

Sam stared at his brother, _willing_ him to understand.

Dean stared back, his brows drawing together in confusion.

Giving up, Sam finally explained. "She bit me…her spell's in effect—it was like I was thrown into another world. I was completely blind and deaf, and these massive dogs were chasing me—"

"She was trying to scare you to death," Dean interrupted. Sam nodded, and Dean continued his questioning, still not having put all the pieces together. "So, what'd you do? How'd you get out of it?"

Sam shook his head. "I didn't."

Dean narrowed his eyes, obviously frustrated. "What do you mean, you didn't, Sam? Obviously, you did. You wouldn't be standing there talking to me if you were still under the spell."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean…" Dean looked on, waiting for the explanation. "I'm touching you."

At that, Dean scrunched up his face as though Sam had just uttered the most completely ridiculous statement in the world. "Dude! What the hell does that have to do with—" Dean stopped abruptly.

Sam watched as his brother's expression slowly morphed into a smirk. His lips were then sucked in as Dean attempted to hide his laughter. Sam rolled his eyes. "That's great. Just get it out of your system."

Dean doubled over laughing. Sam stood, following Dean's movements, his hand remaining on his brother's shoulder. Finally, after a minute, Dean wiped the tears from his eyes and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I really shouldn't be laughing…it's not funny…" But even as he said it, he snorted his way into another bout of laughter.

Sam let his brother have his fun for another minute before becoming annoyed. "Dean! Knock it off! You can laugh at me later. Right now, can we just end this bitch?"

Dean straightened and made an attempt to control himself. "I'm sorry. You're right." He stood up and grabbed his jacket even as another repressed chuckle came out. Turning to the girl, he said, "Sorry, looks like my superhero powers are needed."

The girl looked over at the brothers, appearing somewhat relieved the psychotic boy was leaving.

No longer caring about the potential one-night stand, Dean gave the girl a wide grin. "I'm Batman, you know." He elbowed Sam. "Tell her, Sammy."

Sam looked away and growled; this unfortunate situation would only add to Dean's overinflated hunting ego. After a second elbow to the gut, he turned to his brother, aggravated. "Can we just go?"

Dean laughed and threw on his jacket, coordinating his movements with his brother so they wouldn't separate. Then, together, the brothers made their way out of the bar. Dean resumed speaking as they left the building. "Man, the girls in there were hot. I gotta say though, when we came in here, I didn't think I'd be walking out with _you_ on my arm."

Sam shot his brother a sideways glare. "Believe me, you aren't my first choice, either."

Dean smirked. "Yeah, _your_ first choice would be your laptop…"

Sam pushed his brother away in an automatic response, but then quickly pulled Dean back. The action sent another wave of snickers through his brother. Finally, the two hunters ceased walking as they reached the middle of the gravel parking lot.

Dean looked around before turning to his brother. "You see her?"

Sam scanned the area, searching for the red eyes and copper leg. He knew she wouldn't have gone far, wanting to feed off his corpse after he died. However, in every direction, the empusa was nowhere to be found. Sam shook his head in reply.

Dean sighed. "You sure it's an empusa?"

Sam shot his brother a look. "Silver hair, bony body, glowing red eyes, and two donkey legs, one in fur, the other in copper."

Dean nodded grimly. "Okay, then." After thinking for a moment, he turned back to Sam, a curious expression on his face. "And you insulted her and she still bit you?"

Sam lifted his free hand in a shrug. "I insulted her, told her I wasn't afraid of her, and, yeah, she bit me…twice."

Dean pulled his head down to closely examine where Sam pointed to a bite. After a minute of inspection, Dean released him with a long breath. "Well, I can tell you why the insults didn't work."

Sam shook his head in confusion. "Because I suck at insulting?"

Dean raised his brows in consideration of the explanation. "Well, there's that…but no, it didn't work 'cause she's not an empusa. The bite's shaped like a spiral—that's a mormo bite."

Sam was startled as he contemplated Dean's theory. Mormos and empusas were related. Mormos also scared their victims to death via a spell…and mormos were shapeshifters, so one could have shifted into an empusa form.

Dean spoke again. "That's gotta be one smart bitch. She must have known you were a hunter. What better way to throw you off than to pretend she's a different monster? You stand your ground to prove you're not scared, and she gets an easy lunch ticket."

Sam nodded. That _would_ make her one smart bitch. There was only one problem with the theory. "Dean, mormo spells are stronger than empusa's. If it's a mormo, the spell shouldn't turn off just 'cause I'm near you."

Dean shook his head in disagreement. "They're related creatures. Mormos are stronger, but the same rules probably still apply to the spell. It'd just take a stronger feeling of safety to break it."

Sam rubbed his face with his free hand and sighed. "It makes sense. I mean, you've never let anything happen to me—"

Dean interrupted him with a snort. Looking at the ground, Dean mumbled quietly, "That's not true. It happened, I just figured out a way to undo it at the last minute."

Sam nodded. "Either way, Dean. The point is I _do_ feel more secure with you around than I do on my own, and not just for the spell. Our job…it can get pretty scary, and I trust you, you know? You're my big brother, and maybe it's 'cause I still look up to you, but a part of me really still believes you can fix any problem I have and…I just feel safer."

Dean stared at him for a moment, listening, as he took in what Sam had said. Sam could see in his eyes that the speech had hit his brother hard. They may not have discussed it often, and it may have been something he wasn't happy about, but he wasn't blind; he knew Dean's sense of purpose came from being able to protect him. It pissed Sam off to no end because he himself _hated_ feeling dependent or in any need of protection, and Dean's need to protect him often interfered with his own autonomy. It also pissed Sam off because he wanted Dean to realize he was many great things on his _own_, independent of Sam. But regardless of Sam's feelings, Dean always had, and still did, take the greatest pride in being a good big brother. And it was clear Sam's little mormo-provoked speech had meant a lot to him.

Suddenly, the deep expression left Dean's eyes and he pointed. "See, that shit right there is why people think we're gay."

Sam let out a laugh and shook his head. "All right. So how do we fight a mormo?"

Dean scrunched his face in thought for a moment before shaking his head. "I have no idea. I'm guessing we can shoot the bitch with the Colt, but I'd hate to waste the bullet."

Sam agreed. "Should we call Bobby?"

Dean sighed before nodding. "Yeah, I guess. Man, I'm beginning to get a complex here—this is, what? The third hunt in a row we've had to call him?"

Sam shrugged and sent his brother a look. "At least you're not the one holding on to someone else because you're scared."

Dean let out a laugh and shook his head. "You always were a girl."

Sam growled; he really was never going to hear the end of this…

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_And there's chapter 1. Chapter 2 should be up within a few days. If you get a chance, review and let me know what you think so far!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, here's chapter 2! Only one more to go! Thank you all so much for your reviews- and for those of you who don't review, thank you for reading. We do get notified of how many people at least click on the story, and it makes me smile to know people are continuing to read it. So thank you for that._

_And again, a big thank you to KHannaKorossy for the fabulous editing!_

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**Illusions- Chapter 2:**

"All right, thanks, Bobby."

Sam watched his brother as Dean hung up the phone. He hadn't been able to hear what Bobby said, but Dean's side of the conversation had pretty much filled him in on everything. "So, Bobby doesn't know how to kill 'em?"

Dean shook his head and chewed on a nail. Leaning against the side of the Impala and staring off into space, he appeared deep in thought.

Sam was leaning next to him, staring at his shoes. "Maybe we should check Dad's journal…"

Dean shook his head again. "I've memorized that whole thing word-for-word. It's not in there."

Sam sighed. "All right, so we don't kill it. We just do what Bobby said and trap it."

Dean gave a silent laugh. "Yeah, no problem." He turned to Sam. "You got any curse boxes in your back pocket there, Sammy?"

Sam gave a knowing smile. "Not in my back pocket, but there's one in my bag…"

Dean raised his brows in surprise. "What? Since when? How'd you get it? You made it?"

Sam laughed at his brother's rapid-fire questions and shook his head. "It's the one the rabbit's foot came in. I swiped it from the apartment when we went back to question the thieves. Figured it might come in handy…"

Dean smiled. "Nice thinkin', man."

Sam smiled back.

Dean pushed himself off the car. "Okay, so we've got a box." He turned to his brother. "Now our only problem is that our box is about this big…" Dean gestured in the air, illustrating the small size, "…and the bitch that needs to go in it is about…" This time, Dean fumbled, unsure as to exactly how big the mormo was.

Sam helped him out by using his free hand to demonstrate the creature's larger-than-the-box size. "…that big."

Dean made a face and nodded. "Right. So, what's your plan for that?"

Sam raised his brows and stepped back, not expecting to have that responsibility. "I don't know. You were the one talking to Bobby—what'd he say to trap her in?"

Dean threw up his hand. "I don't know, just a curse box. He wasn't real specific about its size. I think he was assuming that we'd know to use one that actually fit the bitch."

Sam bit his thumbnail as he thought, his other fist still gripped in his brother's leather jacket. "Maybe I could take the box apart, figure out how it works, then recreate it using a larger box." Sam pointed to the crates at the side of the bar. "There. If we fold her in half, she'll fit in one of those."

Dean swung his head from the crates to give his brother a look of, _You've got to be kidding_.

Sam shrugged. "What?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm not sitting in this parking lot for fifteen hours while you dissect a box and then try to recreate it on a crate."

"I'll call Bobby—I'm sure he could talk us through it."

Dean shook his head. "Forget it, Sam. It'll take too long, and what if we screw it up, huh? We've never made one of those things—hell, _Dad_ never even made one of those things. I don't think now's the time to get ambitious."

Sam argued, "We don't have a choice, Dean. It's this or nothing—"

"Not true—we can still shoot her," Dean interrupted.

Sam threw up one arm. "And waste a bullet?" Dean nodded, and Sam growled. "You want to waste a bullet, a bullet we could use to permanently take out a _demon_, because you're too lazy to sit next me while I figure the box out?"

Dean held up a finger in disagreement. "Impatient, not lazy."

Sam shook his head in exasperation. "That's not the point, Dean!"

Dean held his hands wide, causing Sam to stumble forward as he continued to hold on. "Bobby made the bullets once, he can do it again."

Sam grit his teeth in anger. "Sure, it's okay that _Bobby_ has to sit around for a few hours figuring something out. Hell, you probably wouldn't have a problem if it was _just_ me having to figure this out. Just so long as it's not _you_, right?"

Dean held up his hands in surrender. "I don't sit, Sam. I'm supposed to do, what? Twiddle my thumbs while you spend hours tinkering with a box?"

Sam sighed, exasperated. "You could _help_ me. It might even go faster if you did."

Dean threw on a smug expression. "Or we could just shoot her and save ourselves the trouble."

Sam turned away from his brother as much as he could while still clinging to his jacket. Dean was being ridiculous. Hell, it'd be good for them to learn how to make a curse box anyway…

Sam heard his brother give a resigned sigh. "Look, Sammy, the faster we kill this thing, the faster this spell is over."

Sam turned back, glaring. "I'm sorry, Dean, am I annoying you by hanging on to your jacket?"

Dean appeared aggravated. "I never said that! Although…now that you bring it up…"

Sam ground his teeth at his brother's stubbornness. He hadn't seen the mormo in at least a half- hour. It was possible she had given up and moved on to an easier target, a target whose older brother wasn't nearby. If that was the case, Sam would be able to turn the crate into a curse box, and Dean could amuse himself in the bar meanwhile. Only one way to find out…

Sam nodded at his brother. "Fine. You go back to the bar. I'll build the box myself and give you a call when it's done." And with that, he let go.

Immediately, Sam was plunged into darkness. This certainly hadn't been one of his better plans. As he looked around in the thick, black void, he couldn't help but remember his father repeatedly telling him not to let his emotions cloud his judgment. Sam sighed; he had never been good with that lesson. Although, _Dean_ was usually the one who made decisions in anger. Speaking of Dean, why hadn't he grabbed him? He must have noticed Sam wasn't responding…

Sam started. Where was the light? Dean had been right next to him, but there was no light there…

Blindly, he reached out to his right where his brother had been standing. His hand met with air. Sam began to panic, when he heard a faint screaming in the distance. He turned toward the sound and could just about make out the two dogs that had been chasing him, far off in the distance.

Sam watched for a moment, wondering at the fact they didn't seem to be coming toward him. Not only that, but they seemed preoccupied with someone else. Apparently, the mormo _had_ found a new victim.

The person screamed again, and Sam realized in a terrifying instant who the person under attack was: his brother. Somehow, when he had let go, the mormo had attacked Dean.

Immediately, Sam took off running…and almost instantly lost sight of the dogs. For a moment, he stayed still, trying to piece together what had happened. Dean was still screaming, but the scream seemed to be coming from a different direction. In fact, so was the pull of gravity. Sam didn't know why, but all of a sudden, he had the distinct feeling he was lying down…except that he couldn't feel any ground below him.

As quickly as he could, Sam used the pull of gravity to orient himself enough to stand. He must have run into the Impala when he had tried to get to Dean. The car would've been right there, but why hadn't he felt it when he hit?

Holding his hands out in front of him, Sam began feeling for the Impala to walk around it, but it seemed it wasn't there.

Confused and unsure, Sam tried once again to move toward his brother, but he started out walking this time. Sure enough, he was once again blocked. It had to be the car. The car had been in that spot, but he couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything; he only knew he wasn't moving forward because Dean wasn't getting any closer.

With no sight or feeling, Sam tried to estimate where the end of the car was to walk around it. Somehow, that plan worked, and Sam was finally able to see Dean getting closer.

"Saaaammmmy!"

Sam turned his head toward the scream in time to see the lizard-skinned dog tear a chunk of meat out of his brother's thigh. With a horrified cringe, Sam took off running.

The dogs and his brother drew a little closer before vanishing yet again. Remembering what had happened the last time, and given the fact he was in a parking lot, Sam figured he'd run into another car. Swiftly, he stood back up and, using his proximity to Dean as a guide, found his way around the car. Once he could move forward, he began running again.

The scene in front of him was gruesome as the dogs tried to rip his brother apart. Tears fell from Dean's eyes as he continuously cried out in pain. He was gasping for breath and had been screaming so hard that he was already losing his voice.

A red-eyed figure appeared out of the darkness and slowly stalked toward the bloodied Winchester. Sam narrowed his eyes at her. It was the mormo.

Suddenly, she appeared right in front of him, staring into his eyes. Sam stopped short. She had shifted her shape; this time she was beautiful. With a delicate smile and soft voice, she spoke. "Not this time, Sammy. I needed a distraction." She looked at him in sympathy as Dean screamed in the background. "You would've been too much an obstacle. I needed the mormo to distract you."

Sam shook his head, confused. "For what?"

She smiled with mock sympathy. "Time's up…"

Fear filling his being, Sam shook his head in denial. "No, we have four months—"

The red-eyed demon shook her head. "He told you it was a year. It wasn't."

Sam pushed back the dread. It had to be a lie. Dean would've told him if he had only gotten eight months. He at least would've been acting differently today if it had been his last day. And hadn't Sam killed the red-eyed demon? This had to be a mormo hallucination…

Feeling slightly more confident, Sam pointed at the demon. "I killed you."

She stopped smiling but stood her ground. "There's more than one of us, Sammy."

Sam shook his head. "You're the mormo. This is a hallucination."

The demon remained calm. "Even if it is, the result's still the same. There's a reason you can't see his light anymore…"

Terrified at the implication, Sam turned back toward the dogs and his brother. Dean was still screaming, although now the scream was almost completely silent. With his mouth wide open, veins bulging from his neck, and tears streaming from his clenched eyes, Dean was slowly being sucked into the ground.

The red-eyed bitch laughed. "He'll be wearing that look for eternity now. No hope of the pain ever stopping. Just an unceasing agony piercing his body until the end of time." She turned to Sam. "He'll spend all his time praying for the pain to stop for just one second, one second so he can catch his breath, but it'll never stop."

Unwilling to hear any more, Sam ran full speed for his brother. He dove to the ground, making it just in time to see the anguish in his brother's eyes before they disappeared into the earth. Sam pounded on the small patch of grass he could see. "Dean! _Dean!_"

The tormented expression on his brother's face would haunt him forever. His heart thumping in his chest, Sam spun toward the evil creature.

"Bring him back! It's not his time yet."

She frowned in fake sorrow. "I'm sorry, Sammy, but it's out of my hands…"

Sam turned back to the ground that had taken his brother. Still kneeling, Sam folded himself over in grief. He briefly wondered if this was what Dean had felt when he had died. He now understood why his brother had done what he did. The pain hurt so bad, Sam could feel an agonizing spike with every beat of his heart. He was now totally and truly alone. And Dean was in Hell.

"You'll _never_ see Dean again."

With tears in his eyes, Sam turned to look up at the bitch.

Suddenly, her eyes went wide with shock and a bloody hole appeared in her forehead.

The feel of the wind wisped across Sam's face, and blurry images began to appear. The red-eyed creature scowled and flew out of sight.

Trees, cars, bugs, the sky, all of it reappeared and, gradually, Sam's sense of feeling returned. There was an arm across his chest and another around his back. His face was pressed up against something warm, a faint thump-thump echoing in his ear. Dean's scent filled his nostrils. Dean was still alive. It _had_ been a hallucination.

Without thought, Sam spun around and hugged his brother. Dean didn't speak, but Sam felt him hug back.

Sighing with relief, Sam slowly pulled away. Dean allowed him to move back, but kept hold of both his arms. Sam slowed his breathing and inhaled slowly as he felt the pain in his heart recede.

"You okay?"

Sam looked up at his brother, still shaking from the sense of loss he had felt during the hallucination. He was so grateful Dean was still alive…even if he was incredibly pale and terrified. Sam smiled. "You look like shit."

Dean shook his head emotionally and squeezed his brother's forearms tighter. "Dude, you scared the crap out of me. I kept trying to talk to you, I was shaking you, and you just took off running. Ran into the Impala, then this other car. It was like you couldn't even feel me."

Sam looked down at his bruised knees. He hadn't felt it when he'd hit the cars or the ground, but now that the mormo was gone, he knew where each hit had been and how much damage was left behind. He looked back at his brother. "I couldn't feel you. I couldn't feel anything. I was completely disoriented. What happened? You shoot her?"

Dean nodded. "When you got here, she just flew up in front of you. She definitely shed the empusa skin, but the red eyes were a dead giveaway. I realized I wasn't getting anywhere with you, so I ran back to the car and got the Colt." Dean stared at him, a rarely obvious fear shining in his eyes. "By the time I got back, I thought you were already dead."

Sam shook his head. "No, I survived. But she used a different tactic to scare me this time. She must've checked up on us somehow. This time it was a lot more personal."

Dean gave his brother a hesitant look. "She used me, didn't she? She used me and the deal…"

Sam nodded. "How'd you—?"

"I heard you. You kept saying 'it's not time' and you were yelling my name…"

Sam relaxed and sat back. "The dogs from before became hellhounds. They were taking you to Hell." Unwilling to revisit the hallucination or disturb his brother any further, Sam left out the details.

Dean removed one of his hands to hit his brother on the shoulder. "I still got four months, dude. It wasn't real."

Sam looked up. "I know…but if we don't get you out of it, it _will _be real."

"One problem at a time, Sammy. First, we need to stop this spell."

"You killed her." Sam said, confused.

With a shake of his head, Dean explained, "Uh…no. I shot her in the head with the Colt, which, yeah, definitely should've killed her, but apparently Bobby was being literal when he said these things can't be killed."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "He told you that and you wasted the bullet anyway?"

Dean's expression turned angry. "She was killing you, Sam. That bullet saved your life!"

Sam conceded, unable to argue with that logic. If the situation had been reversed, he would've made the same decision. "Why wouldn't the bullet kill her? I thought it could kill anything."

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Bobby just said these things are ancient—eternal."

"Older than demons?" Sam looked at him skeptically.

"I don't know, Sam. Maybe they were here before the whole Heavenly mutiny…It doesn't need to make sense. Fact is, I shot her and she's still around."

Sam sighed and rubbed his head, and Dean moved a hand to his back. He looked at Sam with concern. "You sure you're all right?"

Sam nodded and pushed himself to his feet. "Yeah. One thing's still bothering me, though."

Not breaking contact, Dean stood up with him. "What's that?"

"Why couldn't I see you glowing?"

"Come again?" Dean asked with raised brows.

Sam rolled his eyes. "That's how I found my way to you in the bar. I was totally blind, but I could see you glowing. This time I couldn't find you."

Dean shrugged, considered this for a moment, then snapped his fingers. Sam looked at him expectantly as he explained, "She's a mormo."

That was it? Sam made a face at the obviousness of the statement. "Right. Dean, we got that already."

Dean quickly waved his brother off. "No, no, no. I mean, we were thinking empusa—she casts the spell and the victim gets scared to death unless they feel safe enough to override it."

Sam nodded, prompting his brother to get to the point. "Right…"

Dean huffed with impatience and began walking back to the car, Sam in tow. "Mormos work the same way, but they're more powerful beings—they can manipulate the environment better." He stopped walking to look at Sam. "Everything I've ever read about an empusa, they remove sight and sound, not touch."

Sam considered this as he followed his brother to the car. "You're saying she hid you by taking away my sense of touch."

Dean shrugged. "Has to be. She probably figured out how you found me the first time. But that doesn't make sense, 'cause you _saw_ me the first time, so…"

Jumping on to his brother's explanation, Sam shook his head. "No. No, I was blind. I think I could sense you somehow, like I could feel your presence—"

Dean interrupted his brother with a look of disgust. "You mean like a psychic thing?"

"No, I think it's all part of the spell. It was like an instinct to run to safety, but I was blind, I had to feel my way there …" Frustrated with his explanation, Sam threw up his arm. "I don't know how to explain it. But I don't think I was seeing the light with my eyes-"

"You were seeing it with your heart?" Dean leaned his head to Sam's chest as he batted his eyes up at his brother.

Sam glowered as he elbowed his brother in the ribs. "Shut the hell up, asshole." Despite Dean's mockery, however, it seemed that was _exactly_ what had happened.

Dean let out a loud laugh and straightened up. Still smiling, he said, "Okay, point is, if she takes away your sense of touch, you can't find me."

Sam nodded, and Dean resumed pulling him toward the car. "Okay. This has been enough fun for me for one night—time to end this bitch. We tried my way, now we try yours." Reaching the car, Dean tore open the back door and pulled out his brother's bag. Throwing it on top of the trunk, he stepped to the side. "You get the box, I'll call Bobby."

Sam agreed.

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_Wow, that was really AU, huh? But, okay, keep in mind that I wrote this about a year and a half ago. At the time it was written, it was AU yet, I promise! Oh well, I hope you enjoyed it anyway. As always, please review and let me know!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, this is it. The final chapter. Thanks to all who have reviewed the story and all who continue to read the story. Your support is very much appreciated._

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**Illusions: Chapter 3**

"Hey, how you doin'?"

Sam looked over with a smirk as his brother nodded to the latest drunk couple that had paused to stare at the two strange men drawing symbols on an empty crate with linked arms. It hadn't been long into their attempt at building a curse box that they had discovered it would work better if they both had two hands free, thus the hooking of their arms…much to Dean's dismay.

"I swear, one more person looks at us like that, and I'm gonna stick _them_ in this curse box."

Sam rolled his eyes as he turned back to the crate. "I think we're done."

With an expression of disbelief, Dean looked over the box. "Seriously? I thought these things took days to make."

Sam shook his head. "We already had a lot of the stuff ready to go from the other box, and with two of us working on it, it went a lot faster."

"Okay, so now we've got a box…"

Sam joined his brother in looking at the crate. "Yep. We've got a box."

Dean pulled in his lips. "Right."

"Right…"

Both brothers turned to each other. "So, what's the plan?"

Sam scrunched his face, unable to think of anything good. Finally, he turned to his brother, hesitant. "You said she appeared while I was hallucinating…"

Dean immediately shook his head, already knowing by Sam's tone where he was going with that thought. "No, Sam."

Sam gave an exasperated sigh. "Dean, come on."

Dean's head spun toward his brother's. "What are you, five? Don't whine. You're not doing it."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Believe me, man, I'm not looking forward to it, but there's really no other choice."

Dean shook his head. "No."

Sam stared for a moment, but when Dean said nothing further, he became aggravated. "Do you have a better plan?"

Dean looked back at him. "No, but—"

"Then this is what we go with." He stood up, bringing Dean with him.

"This is suicide, dude."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, you're one to talk."

Dean's eyes grew dark. "Hey! _I_ really didn't have a choice."

Sam splayed his arms wide in invitation. "You've got another plan, let's hear it."

For a moment, Dean appeared as though he was going to say something, but then the moment passed and he sagged in defeat. "All right, but don't expect me to be happy."

Sam let out a laugh. _Happy_ was not the dwarf he would've picked as Dean's match. _Grumpy_ fit him much better.

Picking up the box, Sam dragged it and his brother to the middle of the parking lot. He turned to Dean. "I'll stand here, no matter what. No running this time. As soon as you see her, shoot her with the shotgun and try to get her to fall in the box. Then cover it."

Dean stared at his brother in disbelief.

Intimidated by the long stare, Sam shrugged. "What?"

Dean blinked. "Dude…you've come up with some crappy plans before, but that one takes the cake. How do we even know these bullets will hurt her? Hell, I shot her in the _head_ with the _Colt_ and it only stunned her."

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was late and he was tired. He just wanted to end this and then go to sleep in a warm bed. "If the shotgun doesn't work, use the Colt again. Just try to get her into the box."

Dean raised his brows in surprise. "So now it's okay to waste the bullets?"

Sam shot his brother a sideways glare. "It was okay for you to help me build the box?"

Dean grumbled and moved to the trunk. Searching through the contents, he pulled out a pistol and two shotguns. He handed one of the guns to his brother. "We'll both shoot her. We'll have a better chance of knocking her down if we're both hitting her. When she appears in your hallucinations, she's real. You were talking to her before. We'll start you out facing the box, and then you just have to make sure you don't move. Hold the gun ready—if you can't feel it after you let go, just trust that it's there."

Sam accepted the shotgun and nodded. "You ready?"

Dean gave a humorless laugh. "_You_ ready?"

Sam shook his head. "No." Then he let go.

Once again, he was plunged into darkness. Just like the last time, Sam lost his ability to see, hear, and feel. This time, he noticed his brother shine for an instant, but then the light was snuffed out, along with the feeling of the gun in his hands.

He repeated Dean's words to help calm himself. "Just trust that it's there…" Kind of like Dean. He couldn't see, hear, or feel Dean, but nevertheless, he trusted his brother was there, right by his side.

A low growl rang in his right ear, and Sam shivered as a cold strand of drool dripped down his neck. He knew it was the dogs, but if he turned around, there'd be no way he'd be able to reorient himself. The only thing he could do was stand still and hope the dogs weren't actually able to hurt him. So far, that had been true…

A bark rang out in his ear, and Sam jumped in fright. He closed his eyes, yearning for the dogs to just go away. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his leg. He looked down to see one of the horned dog biting into his calf. Sam grimaced and yelled in pain. His leg buckled and his body began to drop…but he didn't fall. His legs remained only partially bent. Something had stopped his fall.

"Dean." He couldn't feel him, but Sam knew his brother was holding him up. Suddenly, the pain in his leg vanished.

Sam looked down. The dog was gone and, along with it, the bite. Sam straightened his legs, presumably taking back his own weight, and stared at his calf in confusion. "What the hell?"

Then he realized, he hadn't been able to feel Dean, but he had known Dean was there nonetheless and just _knowing_ he was right there made Sam feel safer, safe enough to knock out the hallucination. But given the fact he still couldn't feel, see, or hear anything, the mormo was probably pretty close…

And just as he thought of her, she appeared. She was about twelve feet away, which sucked because the box was only ten feet away. Sam couldn't see it anymore, but judging from where the mormo had materialized, she was on the wrong side of the box. If they shot her now, she'd just be pushed farther from the crate. Smart bitch.

The now-beautiful woman smirked. "What I showed you was real. A vision of my own, if you will…"

Sam narrowed his eyes. "You're lying. Dean's not going to Hell—I'll make sure of that."

She smiled sympathetically. "You know that's a bluff. You've been trying for eight months—it's not going to happen. Should I show you more of what's in store for your big brother?"

Sam's heart clenched. He didn't want to see any more. As it was, the image of Dean screaming in pain as he was sucked into the ground would be haunting his dreams; he couldn't _bear_ to see anymore. If only the bitch would move up a few feet…

The mormo's sympathetic stare slowly became an icy glare. "I don't know why I phrased it as a question. It's not optional."

Dean's scream pierced the blackness, and Sam shut his eyes. It wasn't like he could see anyway…

"Sammy! Sammy, please!"

Sam willed his body not to respond to his brother's voice pleading for help. He couldn't feel anything, but he knew his hands were shaking.

"SAM! Help me! PLEASE!"

Tears formed behind his eyelids, and the mormo's voice rang in his ear. "Do you smell his flesh cooking? And you thought Mommy and Jessica had it bad when they burned for a few minutes. Poor big brother will be burning for eternity. And why? Just because he loves you so much, he gave everything to save you."

Sam opened his eyes with a glare. "Shut up, bitch!" Lifting his hands, he aimed the invisible shotgun and fired.

The mormo's face grew startled and, suddenly, her body jerked back. With a roar, she changed, shifting back into her horrific empusa form.

Just as the creature changed its shape, light began to make its way into the darkness. At first, Sam squinted against its intensity, but as his eyes adjusted, he realized he was once again seeing his brother. Then, along with Dean's light, feeling began to return as well. Sam suddenly could feel the shotgun in his hand and the wind against his face. Apparently, the mormo was less powerful when taking the form of the empusa and, therefore, unable to remove Sam's sense of feeling. Perhaps the energy she spent shifting her shape left less for the spell.

The light shifted behind the creature, and another shot rang out. The donkey-legged hag lurched forward and, before she could recover, a second shot had her flying forward again. The mormo was now in front of the box, and Sam ran forward. Aiming the invisible gun at a downward angle, he fired another shot through the creature, sending her spiraling to the floor. The light moved toward her and, within a blink, the darkness disappeared.

Thrown back into his surroundings, Sam stumbled, overwhelmed by the sudden reappearance of two senses. In front of him, Dean was closing the lid on the crate.

"_Skanks!"_

Dean slammed the lid shut and sat on it, using his weight to keep it closed. Sam looked over at his brother, and Dean met his tired stare. "Dude, did she just call us skanks?"

Sam made a face in reply, unwilling to explain where the creature had picked up that particular word.

Dean shook his head. "Who the hell calls someone a skank? That's gotta be the lamest insult ever." He nodded to Sam. "Sounds like something you would say."

Sam felt his face turn red, and he promptly turned away, moving to the trunk to get the hammer and nails. Returning quickly, he nailed down the top of the crate and followed it with a protection spell to seal it. When he was finished, he gave his brother a hand up off the box.

Looking down at the crate, Dean wiped his hands on his jeans. "Man, that was one ugly spirit."

Sam nodded, and Dean looked over at him. "You okay?"

Sam nodded again.

Dean took a step back as though studying him. "You sure? You seemed pretty pissed while you were hallucinating."

Sam narrowed his eyes at the bitch in her wooden cell. "Yeah, well. She said something she shouldn't have."

Dean raised his brows. "What?"

Unwilling to answer, Sam just shook his head. He bent down to lift the box. Together, the brothers moved the now-filled curse box into the backseat of the Impala.

Slamming the door, Dean gave his brother a disgusted look. Not understanding the reason for it, Sam shook his head. "What?"

"I don't like that thing in my car…"

Sam rolled his eyes. "We can't leave it out here, Dean. Someone'll open it."

Dean pouted. "Yeah…but it's in the car, Sam."

Sam sighed and moved to the passenger side. "We'll move it to Dad's storage place, put it with the other curse boxes. There's a better chance of it not being found there."

Dean whined again and slipped into the driver's seat. As soon as Sam was in, both doors slammed shut. Turning on the engine, Dean gave his brother a warning look. "Fine, but if she breaks out in here—"

Sam smiled and held up the Colt. "Don't worry, Dean. I've got it covered."

Rolling his eyes, Dean backed the car out of the parking lot. "That's great. I'm happy to know you'll save me."

As Dean began the long drive to New York, Sam turned his head toward the side window. The trees flew by in a blur, but Sam ignored them, instead staring at his own reflection. Looking into his own eyes, he promised himself as he whispered a reply to his brother. "I will save you."

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_Yeah...see...it's just less inspiring now that we know what happens. But, hopefully you'll still be able to enjoy the story just the same. Please give me some feedback and let me know what you thought. I love hearing from you guys!_


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